


It’s Just a Dream

by Mabel_Juice



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, An Interesting Hodgepodge of Pairings Mentioned, Character Death, Demons, Dreamscape shenanigans, F/M, Incest, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Psychological Torture, Shocking just to be shocking, Tentacle Rape, Triangle Bill Cipher, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mabel_Juice/pseuds/Mabel_Juice
Summary: Foremost a self indulgent torture-fic filled to the brim with over the top dreamscape violence, and extremely psychologically damaging situations. It was written to be as disgusting and weird as possible so proceed with some amount of caution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this maybe three years ago now. If I’m remembering correctly right around the beginning of the second season, but I could be off. It was a more or less innocent story that was warped into the disturbed mess of a thing that it is now by my faux beta-reader continuously prodding me to go just a little darker with it. 
> 
> Since it was written far before the end of the series (and also because even at the time I chose to selectively ignore details) there’s some canon divergence, but I think we’ll all live.
> 
> ...I don’t know how I feel about the ending, but I suppose something had to go there...
> 
> Have fun. Maybe let me know what you think.

Each summer, The Mystery Shack breathed in the life of the two young Pine twins. Their arrival was the pinacle of Stan Pines's year. Especially now that the youthful air Wendy had provided had long since staled with her departure for college. Forever a grump, Stan tried to feign apathy about his old employee leaving Gravity Falls, though his care for the girl was shown in the occasional cough and sad mumble at the mention of her name, and his hesitance to replace her. Darned kids had softened him. 

Dipper and Mabel's parents were shocked when the kids continued to insist on visiting their Grunkle the summer after their 18th birthday, but they weren't about to discourage the behavior either. You were never too old to spend time with your family! Little did they know, that Stan was only a fraction of their reason for the repeated pilgrimage. Gravity Falls was home to some of their closest friends, summer romances, exciting memories, and of course, otherworldly mysteries.

Dipper might have taken a smidgen more to the mysteries than his sister. That's the watered-down way he liked to think about it, at least. Some nights his research bordered on obsession, sleepless hours would stack up as he added to the copious notes of his beloved journal, rearranging pages, assembling graphs, and reverse engineering the answers to long forgotten codes. Like Grunkle, like nephew. 

Even now, in the middle of the night, Dipper laid sprawled out on the creaky old bed he'd learned to call his own, papers strewn all around. The twins still shared the same attic they had since they were no more than a few feet off the ground. Partially for nostalgia purposes, partially because they just liked one another's company, and partially because if a were-pire snuck into the room, they could scream out for the other's help. 

However far into his work he got, a part of Dipper minded his movements, keeping him slow and quiet so as not to wake his snoring sister. The only audible sounds produced by Dipper were the soft touch of his pencils dancing across the lines of his color-coded notebooks, and the occasional light shuffling of a page turning or a folder opening. Though by the time his organic noises got to mabel, they were overtaken by the life of the forest. With the window open to let the hot Oregon air circulate, there was a chorus of crickets chirping, owls hooting, and tiny gnome feet padding across the dirt. 

The night was humid, and Dipper was an exhausted personification of the surrounding heat. His sun-kissed skin glowed with a sweaty sheen in the dim light, only covered by a thin pair of boxers. A bead of sweat trickled over his birthmark, revealed to the night courtesy of his slicked back bangs. Stripped down and focused on his studies, the heat wasn't too much of a bother. Not uncomfortable, at least. 

It might have even been characterized as relaxing. Thoughts about the air feeling like a thick blanket, circling, surrounding, and caressing his body wafted through Dipper's mind. Focusing less and less on the text, the weight of his eyes seemed to get heavier with each passing second, until they finally closed. 

It was only a blink, but he gasped as his eyes flew open. The air that invaded his lungs was crisper now, less like breathing in an ever moving ocean of heat. Stranger yet, the natural singers of the night had ceased their performance. Everything was quiet, still. 

Dipper's gaze lifted over to his silenced sister. Her body didn't appear to moving with her breaths anymore. "Mabel?" Dipper questioned quietly, slipping off his bed. The nearer he drew, the colder and darker her corner of her room seemed to become. "Mabel?" he tried, a little louder this time, reaching out to shake her midsection gently. He was sure of it now, she wasn't breathing. "Mabel!" tears threatened to escape him at the thought of losing her, "This isn't funny!" 

Dipper fell back onto the ground when Mabel's head jerked up roughly, turning unnaturally far around to meet his watery stare. The features of the thing in Mabel's bed were reminiscent of her own, but twisted and stretched to lengths that would have been painful, if not impossible. A wide grin revealed a set of too many teeth that extended up to threaten to overtake her shimmering round eyes. The visage was that of a devil-possessed Cheshire Cat ready to pounce. It spoke in a high, grading voice that seemed to come not from the mouth of the creature, but from every crevice hidden around them, "I thought it was kind of funny. Some people are just so hard to please." 

Dipper crawled backwards across the floorboards, eyes widening in realization, "...Bill?" 

"In the altered view of my astrally projected flesh," the demon laughed, turning his body to match the angle he held Mabel's head at.

Dipper growled under his breath, "Get out of my dream before I kick you out!" 

Bill's face softened into a more Mabel-like smile, the yellow light casted by his eyes dimming, "Woah-ho-ho! Tough words. Go ahead, than. Give me your best shot, kid." 

In a quick motion, practiced at acting quickly from all the fights this town had exposed him to, Dipper grabbed his alarm clock, pulling it right out of the socket, and tossed it at Mabel- Bill's head. It exploded into chucks of wire and plastic debris in the air. 

Bill tilted his head to the side, "I'm in a good mood, so why don't you go ahead and try again?" 

Dipper concentrated on dream-making something- anything that could be used as a weapon, but something kept blocking him. An unseen behemoth hand catching his punches, and twisting back his arms. The harder he concentrated, the more pressure it put on his brain, until he finally yelled out in pain, falling onto his knees. 

"But we beat you before! What's different this time?" 

"Well, let's see, now," Mabel rolled out of her bed with jerky, ragdoll movements. "Besides all the growing you've done? Not much. You're just as gullible as ever!" Dipper flinched when she reached out to pat his head, leaning down to give him nasty smirk, "Sorry, we might be in your head, but you're not in charge here." Bill straitened and sauntered right past him, than.

It took a shocked Dipper a moment to whip his head around to find Mabel's body sitting cross legged on the edge of his bed, unabashedly going through his papers. Bill tore up the paper he was examining, "Boring," flipped through, and sent a folder flying into the adjacent wall, "Boring," he spat on the journal, and crossed his arms disapprovingly, "All boring! ...Didn't anyone ever teach you that all work, no play makes Pine Tree a dull boy?" 

As hard as it was to watch his work get unceremoniously destroyed, Dipper calmed himself with the knowledge that it would all be there when he woke up. 'Don't say anything. Don't give him the satisfaction of a response,' Dipper told himself, 'Just remember that this is a dream. He can't actually do anything to you.' 

"Sounds like a challenge," Bill replied snakily to Dipper's thoughts, letting himself fall backwards. Just before his back hit the blanket, the entire bed erupted into blue flames.

The heat that radiated onto Dipper's face felt all too real, and he turned away to avoid seeing his sister's demise play out before him. The tension in his clenched teeth and squeezed together eyelids slowly eased as the warmth of the fire died down, replaced with a rhythmic clicking. Slowly, he turned to face the demon. 

In place of where his bed used to be, there was a little metal desk, piled high with assorted papers. Dipper stood up to examine the new object, ignoring the loud thumping of his heart at the thought of what might be typing behind the large computer monitor across from him. 

The corner of the room his bed had formally occupied had transformed into a stereotypical office cubical. Though at first glance the scene seemed mundane enough, a prolonged view made it clear something was not right. Large filing cabinets surrounded the desk, and stretched all the way to the ceiling, which had been extended to accommodate the massive metal boxes. The eerie florescent lighting that's source could not be found refused to leak further than the edge of the desk, like liquid in a glass case. Little knickknacks lined the edge of the desk, including a snow globe that appeared to have some kind of bloody organ pushing up against the glass, and an aged, rustic looking, gold pyramid that Dipper recognized as a stylized version of a Rubix cube. 

A shining metal name plate caught his eye, and Dipper read it with a questioning tone, "Wendyl?" Silence replaced the click of a keyboard, and spread out into the room, making Dipper choke on the last syllable of the name. 

The monitor -which Dipper now noticed hadn't been plugged into anything- was pushed to the ground with a crash, revealing Bill's cat like eyes embedded in another familiar face. "Ding, ding! That's right" he laughed, winking a made up eye flirtatiously. A few stray red locks framed the woman's lightly freckled face; the rest was pulled back into an oversized bun. 

Dipper's cheeks lit up in anger and embarrassment. The face was undeniably Wendy's, but Bill had perverted her image. Even in the gaudy yellow office getup the demon had adorned his hologram with, it would have been obvious to anyone who knew her that he'd played with Wendy's measurements. Made her bust too large, waist too thin. Bill's shit eating grin said it all; he knew exactly what he was doing. That his slutty secretary caricature of Dipper's childhood crush was a slap in the face. A mockery of human sexuality. 

"Get it, Wendyl? Cause Wendy and Bill...? Yeah, you get it. Kinda cute in like a gitchy tomboy way, huh?" Bill let his office chair spin a little, and smiled condescendingly at Dipper's disgusted frown, "Hey, don't give me that look! You used to think Red was a heartthrob back in the day... Tell me, if older women don't turn your crank anymore, what does?" 

The self dubbed 'Wendyl' tried to suppress an annoyed growl at Dipper's lack of response. Not that he was expecting a real answer. Just an angry tirade. 

"Don't want to talk? Okay. Well, I'll just pull out your file than," Bill lifted up his legs, and wheeled the chair closer to one of the filing cabinets. The drawer flew open, defying the laws of space by opening far beyond the dimensions of the cabinet. It probably would've kept expanding if it hadn't crashed into the adjacent cabinet. While Bill flipped through the manilla folders inside the seemingly endless drawer, he whistled a little tune. 

Dipper watched with growing curiosity. Eventually, it got the better of him and he had to ask, "So what do all of those files represent? Different people's minds, or...?" 

"Ha, no, no, no. These are all yours. I've been doing some house keeping," he waved an arm theatrically, "Every thought, and dream, and desire you've ever had is stored away right here. No need to thank me... Ah! Here we go." 

Dipper watched as Bill proudly produced a hefty manilla folder labelled, 'Sexual Fantasies,' highlighted by a crudely drawn penis. A hot blush coated his entire face. This couldn't be going anywhere good.

"Look at the size of this baby!" Bill laughed, opening it up. "Oh ho ho! Pine Tree, you dog!"

"What... what are you-? Cut it out! Look at my fears or something, not... THAT!" Dipper leaned over the desk attempting to swat the embarrassing thing away from Bill's prying eyes. 

Bill easily dodged him with a bored expression, "Eh, I already know your worst fears. Don't worry though, I'll definitely stir them in." 

Dipper, now leaning across the desk narrowed his eyes, "Excuse me?" 

His question was completely ignored in place of flipping through his file. A blue fire suddenly lit up Wendyl's eyes. An interested smirk painted her face, as she chirped, "Oh, here's a good one!" She clutched one of the papers and held it up for Dipper to see. 

Instead of words, the paper shown like a television playing out a blurred, skipping film. His laptop was open to -Dipper blanched- two men fucking on a couch. "Now hold on-" he wanted to put some context to the memory, but was interrupted by his own hushed, moaning voice, 

"Tell me more about how you organized your... Extensive research essay... Oh my God so... EFFICIENT." The last word was accentuated as he drown himself in the thought of his lover describing his lengthy, but necessary note taking process. 

Bill snickered, "Talk about letting obsession rule ever facet of your life! You're almost as crazy as me. Almost..." His voice trailed off, before springing back to a manic yell, "Hey, guess what happens when you're exposed to your own memory!" Wendyl's body moved inhumanly fast, grabbing ahold of Dippers's neck and shoving him down on the desk while pressing the memory against his face.

The paper was cold and slimy, and the contact made his nerves jump like an electric current had been shot through him. Every touch that the memory had to offer coursed through him jaggedly as his body tried to process the dual reality being presented to him. The rickety chair under him melded with the feel of being pressed against the cool metal desk. His own hands, one massaging his cock and the other slowly scraping a few fingers against the walls of his asshole, had been gentle and unsure at the time, but were now painful and unyielding as his dream self was choked out. 

Dipper struggled to free himself from the kinesthetic overload, but he could no longer decipher which body was actually his, and every which way he struggled made him bump into either an object from his dream, or memory. 

"Stop-" he choked out, coughing as tears spilled down his face.

To his surprise, the cold feeling of the paper left his cheek, and the hand that had been chocking him loosened. All of his muscles went loose against the desk as he desperately gulped in air. 

Wait. Did people breath in dreams? He attempted to effect reality once more to relieve himself of the need, but received a quick warning squeeze to the throat that silently said, 'remember who's in charge here'.

Dipper's gaze lifted steadily up to Wendyl's face as he caught his breath, but she was no longer paying him any mind. Somewhere beyond the heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears, another voice had entered. It took a moment for him to catch enough of his bearings to understand the argument taking place.

"Let him go!" Mabel. Mabel was here? She must have followed Bill into his head. Oh God, he hoped she hadn't seen that memory. 

Just as Dipper caught his bearings, a chunk of his hair was grabbed and used to pull him across the desk. The sound of follicles being ripped out intermixed with his pained gasps. In a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure, Dipper scrambled to comply with the direction he was being forced, knees smacking painfully into metal. He found himself falling right into Wendyl's arms.

No. Everything was too big and muscular to be the Barbie-dolled version of his old crush. Somewhere in his struggle, Bill had shifted into one of the FBI agents from the Pines' childhood. Trigger- (Trill? Bigger?)'s hands came up to slowly pet Dipper as if he were a cliche cartoon villain's cat. 

Dipper tensed. It might have been too late for him, but maybe Mabel could escape. Somehow. Run out of sight and imagine a portal out of his mind. He tried to yell to her, "Mabel! I'll be fine, just find a way to-" his warning died down to an indistinguishable muffle as his lips sealed together. Dull pain and a warm trickle running down his chin prompted a feeling of abject horror to boil within him. His fingers came up to feel along the line of his mouth. Bumpy cross-stitches had appeared, laced through with thick, rough twine. 

Mabel stood petrified, mouth opened, eyes wide. 

Bill waved his hand theatrically, and greeted her in a booming, jovial voice that echoed around from nearly everywhere except his actual body's mouth, "Ah, the life of the party! Good to see you, Shooting Star! Pull up a chair!" His gloved fingers gave a nonsensically crisp snap. A chair shot out from behind Mabel, hitting her in the back of the knees, and causing her to fall back into it. She flailed and cursed as she flew over to the desk, her hair flapping out wildly. 

"Watch me turn your brother inside out!" Bill invited, giving the kid in his lap a squeeze on the forearm. 

Pressure grew in Dipper's core, traveling through his body and pulling at his muscles down to the bone. He ground his teeth, back arching against the internal pull uselessly. Just when he was sure his body would explode against the force, it suddenly let off completely. 

Bill ran a hand unabashedly across the front of his boxers, making him shiver, "Or maybe you'd rather eat the fried byproduct of his castration?" 

When Dipper's pride allowed him to spare a glance at his sister, he was expecting her face to reflect how vulnerable and afraid he felt, but Mabel didn't cower or cry. Instead, her glowering eyes were set into a rosy, downright pissed red. 

Perhaps it was her raw anger that sped time up in the next instant.

Mabel came barreling over the desk, slamming into Bill's face fist-first. It didn't stop with a single hit. Her fists flew, landing messy, untrained hits anywhere she could. Dipper was only in the way of her surprise attack for a split second before he used the distraction to scramble to the floor. 

Skidding across the rickety floorboards put the sting of splinters into his exposed skin. His chest tightened on impact, and left him gasping for air that his sewn together mouth refused to allow. Every part of his abused body filled with pain and shame as he listened to Mabel fight his battle.

No. No! He refused to let himself get pushed around like this. With a thick inhale, he put all his concentration to work. Maybe it was his determination, maybe it was because Bill was overwhelmed by the presence of two minds. Whatever the cause, Dipper found his breath return to him, the scrapes leave his skin, and the gore on his face replaced by a relieved smile.

Mabel was still beating the tar out of Bill- now in the form of her latest ex boyfriend. Big miscalculation on his part. If anything that was just throwing kindling on the flames of retribution. 

"I was just messing around! Can't we talk about this?" Bill whined through Mark, pathetically trying to untangle his luscious locks from Mabel's grip. 

She growled in response, "You hurt my brother, and broke my heart!" 

Red light pierced Bill's eyes. Neither the pupil, iris, or the whites shown through the pure rage bursting to life. The light cracked at the edges of skin, slithering every which way like the mouth of a river. Inhuman growling echoed around them. The room shook, and the walls unravelled like bandages to reveal a gray nothingness that stretched out endlessly in all directions.

Mabel's fear overtook her other emotions, and she was finally prompted to stop her onslaught of hits. The moment Dipper saw her hesitation, he was grabbing her up, pulling her away. They dashed over a fallen filing cabinet, instinctively heading towards the door. The familiar door that now seemed frightfully ghoulish with the walls all around disintegrated. It still held a promise of freedom from the wrath of Hell threatening to consume them. 

"Mabel!" he screamed over the growing tremors and strange electric sensation filling the air. They met one another's faces despite themselves, both with glistening trails of fear running down their cheeks. Dipper shook away the embarrassment that threatened to well up, and yelled, "Help me imagine the way out!" 

He focused in on the door, and as soon as they ran through it, the entire scene burst into white, and the world went quiet. 

Dipper's eyes flipped open, upper body flinging itself up off his bed. Papers fell to the ground, and shuffled along the covers. He did a thorough survey of his mouth, opening and shutting it, and running his fingers along it's miraculously unscathed contours. 

A little whine and a thud sounded from across the room, and there was Mabel. It only took a few padding hits of her obnoxiously large plush-octopus slippers against the floorboards to launch herself into Dipper's arms.

They embraced warmly, tight, needing the other's presence. Dipper ran his fingers through the expanse of Mabel's long unmanageable curls. The smell of sugar and cheap craft glue that seemed ingrained into her being sent a wave of ease through his unconsciously still tense muscles. In return, Mabel buried her face into his padded vest, blubbering out little reassurances.

Dipper's mind raced. When they pulled apart he immediately reached for the pen and notebook hanging off the edge of the comforter. The poor utensil was immediately shoved into his mouth as he flipped to, and scrutinized a clean sheet of paper. His palm pressed his head, partially in fear and partially in unadulterated wonder at the events that had just unfolded. Anyone who knew him could've seen that he was falling victim to his constant hunger for answers. If his mouth could run as fast as his brain, the words spilling from him would have overlapped- and they very nearly did, "Oh man, that could've been really bad! Did you see how mad Bill was when we ran out of there? Why show up again after all this time? What do you think he was after?" 

All these thoughts were broken by Mabel's soft hushing, accentuated by a finger pressed up to his mouth. His eyes tore from the sheet -already somehow starting to fill with his scribbled down notes- to his sister's face.

"Why don't we wait until morning for all that?" Mabel asked, eyes glittering. She slid closer to him, and Dipper detected something off about her posture. An extra lilt to her words that had never been directed at him-that he'd never wanted directed at him. He knew she must be joking or he was just still on edge or- 

Light fingertips traced his stubble. She shifted even closer to him, letting their bodies slide into one another. It felt natural and familiar in a way. That made it even more sickening. An ever comforting presence corrupted by an unwanted dark ingredient. Dipper stiffened under the touch, face growing red as Mabel's face inched closer to his.

"What are you-" Dipper's hoarse voice died on Mabel's soft lips. From deep within him, a cough built up and pushed out directly in his Twin's mouth, making her stumble back. Stunned, his brain lingered for a moment before giving Mabel a firm shove strait off of his bed. He winced at forceful action. No matter how shocked and disgusted he was, Mabel didn't deserve that. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. Are you...?" Dipper peered over the edge of the bed to look at her. Dark curls hid the better portion of her shaking body. Guilt couldn't be stopped from rearing it's way into Dipper, catching in his throat to stop his trickle of apologies. 

A hand subconsciously reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. He froze, and felt along the worn fabric fitted in place just above his hairline. Readjusting himself, he pulled off the comforter. He was fully clothed in an outfit he only really remembered from pictures. Blue vest, baggy red-orange shirt, grey jeans-shots, even his muddy old vans. 

He was sure he'd fallen asleep in boxers, and even if he hadn't there was no way he could be wearing this old ensemble. Unless... 

His head turned, and was instantly met with Mabel's face hovering a breath away. He let out a surprised yell. 

"Oh I'm sorry, bro, did I scare you?" she asked sweetly, crawling up his body as he backed himself against the headboard, "I just wanted to try to make you feel better..." 

With an eye roll at his obvious fear, her voice gave way to the echo of Bill's deadpan tone, "What gave me away?" 

There was no reason not to have composure. Bedsides the increasing feeling of dread and anxiety in his gut. Dipper took a deep breath, "Besides you acting like a complete creep? I haven't worn these clothes since I was a kid." 

The air warbled around Mabel. All the color drained from the world, seeping from the walls and running off of every surface like cheap paint in a rain storm. They intermingled in a none too choreographed dance, melding into a headache of browns and harsh, gaudy combinations. The color built on itself, forming a disgusting clump that crawled systematically to Mabel, who was collapsing into a whirring white light. 

Dipper blinked against the painfully gaudy and bright being squeezing in on itself before him. All the whitened color seemed to meet at a single focal point, and out from an inverted nothingness suddenly spun the true glowing triangular form of Bill Cipher. His velocity was set to have him slam into the ceiling, but he held out his feet and braced himself against a nonexistent ground, which he skidded across, knocking up dust from thin air under his boot. 

Bill greeted him with a little curtsy-like gesture, and the tilt of his hat. The world around them spun with the hat, and Dipper found himself sitting with his legs up, laying against the head board. Oddly, the gravity of everything else seemed unaffected, the sheet and papers around him stuck in place. 

Bill gave the accidentally created clothes a quick once-over, and lightly smacked above his eyes, "Ah geez. Details! Seeing multiple realities and time lines in one conscious stream messes with you more than you'd believe. I always manage to goof up something," he laughed, jostling Dipper's shoulder, "I do a pretty convincing Shooting Star, though, huh? Good enough to fool you!" 

Realization dawned on Dipper that all of that had been like a performance piece to this lunatic. Didn't he know human minds were fragile? He'd been put through some pretty sick shit, and Bill was back to his mock-friend act. The last thing he wanted was to be civil!

"What the Hell," Dipper ground out, "is wrong with you?" 

"Oh, lots of things!" Bill chided, pulling the brim of Dipper's hat down, and watching it spring back into place. 

Dipper grumbled, readjusting the thing, "You've pulled enough weird shit for one night- one LIFETIME. Just get out already!" As he spoke, his voice grew, until it was an embarrassingly loud volume. 

"Nah, not yet," Bill poked his nose, "But I like that you still think you can make me do anything. You're stupid."

"I happen to know that you can't actually do shit to me without a deal, and that's not happening. So you're wasting your time." Bill's little black arm was smacked to the side. His eye narrowed at Dipper's audacious words. 

An eerie silence followed by a snap sent the world spinning, and Dipper flying. Anticipating the inevitable smack into whatever side of the room became the new floor, Dipper curled in on himself. The hit never came. Instead the world just kept spinning around them, faster and faster, in an erratic pattern. It left him suspended in the middle of the room, unable to make sense of where anything was. Air rushed around him at an alarming acceleration, wind screaming into his ears, and he shut his eyes in some misguided hope that it might make that world STOP. 

With the last word punctuated in Dipper's mind, suddenly the dream went quiet and still. He opened his eyes to... blackness. A vast emptiness spread out before him, only leaving a sensation of free fall. Maybe this was his memory of the bottomless pit? No, the bottomless pit had had substance. The dirt had scent and moisture and heat hung around and invaded your senses. 

Whatever sightless cavern he found himself plunged into only invoked a cold feeling from within. Like the darkness was more than the absence of light. A tangible manifestation of clear stasis. Buildup in all directions of a nothingness that could've been held, and measured. 

Unnerving to say the least. 

The lack of anything else made him hyper sensitive to the liquid-esque chill wrapping around the his arms, slithering and moulding itself. His arms reflexively jolted away from his body to prevent the spread of whatever was on him. 

"I may only have access to your noggin..." 

In a fashion akin to a dimmer switch being slowly brought to full brightness, Bill appeared. The light his body cast allowed Dipper to see the last blobs of moving metal settle themselves together in a thick cuff on his wrists. He tried to give Bill a curious look, but found himself turning away from the harsh light the demon cast. 

"...But trust me, kid, I can still do plenty of very REAL damage."

Chains rattled, and in an instant, Dipper's arms were being pulled up. Or rather. Gravity pulled the rest of Dipper down while his arms were forced into place. The impact ripped through his body. His entire weight attempted to force his hands through the cuffs holding him up. It only succeeded in making the harsh edges dig into the meat of his palm and rip away the flesh on either side of his hands. Down his arms, the shoulders and back ached from where his arms had very nearly been pulled out of their sockets. Pain wracked up and down his torso, muscles seizing up. 

Dipper coughed and wheezed, twisting his hands around to try to dislodge them from their binds. Heat rose in his cheeks at the hysterical laugh echoing around him. Little murmurs of 'pathetic' and 'humans' weakly braking through. 

When he finally started to calm down, Bill theatrically conjured a tissue box to blow his nonexistent nose. If he noticed Dipper's unimpressed look, he ignored it in favor of the exclamation, "I almost forgot what a blast your pain is!" Bill lowered his eyelid, "It's a shame though, you used to be more of a screamer." 

Dipper drew in a shaky breath, trying to ward off the creeping chill working it's way up his spine, "What the fuck is your deal?" 

"Let's talk business later," Bill chirped, "For now, I wanna focus on this puppy," he clapped and his tissue box puffed away, leaving the dreaded manilla folder in it's place, "I thought you'd go way further than you did with your sister. Seriously, 18 years of friendship and she doesn't even get a kiss back? Bad brother." 

"You're sick," Dipper spat out. 

"Hey, people in glass houses! I pulled her strait outta here!" Bill shook the folder emphatically, finger tracing underneath the words 'sexual fantasies'. 

"Liar." 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Bill chuckled, "What about this chick, than, gonna deny an attraction for her too?" The triangle's light expanded and faded into a much duller glow around a newly formed naked human body. She was smaller, with a flat chest and rounded face, but with curves and structure that were obviously adult. Slightly darker skin, smooth and unscathed, with billowing black hair flowing out. It took a moment for Dipper to recognize the girl sans clothes and glasses. Candy, his sister's friend who was so close to them she might as well have been his sister too.

Bill did a little spin with extra flourish, throwing out his arms to show off his work, "Tell me you don't wanna procreate with this!" 

"Ugh, gross," Dipper chocked, talking more about the demon's choice of words than anything else. 

Candy's expression went from prideful glee to an annoyed resolution.

Inhuman cries of pain filled the space, as Candy's glow took on a blue hue that casted all around them. Shadows moved around in the air, and Dipper sensed that the bellowing screams were coming from their horrible stretch forms. In front of him, the skin melted away from Candy's body like wax, revealing muscle and bone.

Dipper's voice joined the shadow's chorus of screams. He jerked his head away from the sight, but found his effort to protect his sanity fruitless. A gold light appeared directly above him, and suddenly Bill's little black hands were on his face, forcing his eyelids open and turning his head to look directly at the melting body. His breath quickened, his screams escalating in volume and pitch.

"Yes!" Bill exclaimed above him, barely audible among the mixed cries of Dipper and the damned, "Sing for me!"

When the horror of the satanic execution finally cease the charred remains barely held any resemblance to Candy. The disintegrating skeleton's eyes had fallen out of the skull, lost to the abyss. It's hair went up in flames, leaving only burnt thickets sticking out of the blackened skull. The body was a centerpiece in a macabre scene of beauty. Ash floated all around the blue light, like an inverted night sky. The distorted shadows swimming uselessly in a never ending sea of torturous chaos could've easily been mistaken for a magical dance within the living atmosphere of flame.

Bill found pride in knowing he was the conductor to the swirling soul's melodic song of pain. And for just one night only, the show starred the boy mentally thrashing in his hold. Get your tickets now! 

He relished just a moment longer in the exquisite excitement of it all than finally let go of Dipper's head. The light faded, and the screams died down. All the screams besides Dipper's, that is. His waling carried on for another minute, until a coughing fit hit him, and left him gasping and heaving.

A cheery hum sounded from Bill as his thin little arms extended out to keep the remains of the lifeless husk from floating away. With a flick to the forehead of the skeleton, it lit up again, growing, reforming.

Dipper breathed in a shaky breath as he took in the new image of the person stretched out before him. Unlike Candy, this body was huge, covered in stretch marks and thick body hair. It drifted onto it's side, leaning it's elbow on nothing, and holding up it's head in it's palm. It gave him a wink, and Dipper blanched, a rush of something bitter settling in his stomach. The man he'd looked up to since he was little, his friend. Sure, he'd accidentally let his mind drift there a few times in the confusion of puberty, but he never actually wanted to see Soos like that.

Dipper tilted his head back to look at Bill, who regarded the rebirthed model with some disgust. "Well, how about Question Mark, than?" he asked, "I don't personally see the appeal, but than again, you're all pretty repugnant to me." 

"I don't want to have sex with ANY of my friends or family," Dipper raved, rattling his chains as he kicked his legs, "And seriously, if you find humans so 'repugnant', than why in the name of GOD are you doing this?" 

Bill hummed, "Aw, so that's a no on this one, too? Too bad."

He aimed at the Soos's head with a gun-finger and shot an invisible blast that left his pointer smoking. 

"Oh no dude!" Were the hologram's first and last words, before it's head unrealistically exploded like they were in an action-movie. Gore flew out in every direction, including strait onto Dipper's face. 

"OH MY GOD!" He cried, eliciting another laugh from Bill. 

A glowing blue lawn chair appeared, and Bill sunk into it. Matching popcorn poofed into his hands. He elbowed Dipper's arm, and made a sign for him to be quiet. "Wait, wait, this is where it gets good," he whispered while tossing cyan popcorn into his warbling portal of a midsection. 

The headless body slowly stood up, it's arms out at it's sides to try to find it's balance on an invisible floor. The righted form was horrible. Matted, sweaty hair sticking out at every angle, just a sliver of his dick sticking out from under his fat jiggling belly, and the way this rolls met one another and the legs stuck out... That wasn't even getting into the blood dripping down it's torn apart neck. 

Any naked person would've been horrendously awkward and disgusting in their own right, but the fact that it was Soos made it so much worse for Dipper. The only reason he didn't look away was to keep Bill's fingers off his eyelids. 

The body wobbled on it's stumpy legs. Hands patted the air in search of something, or maybe just trying not to run into anything. Whatever the case, one of his fingers brushed against an unseen object. Upon contact, the object took visible shape with an outline of internal blue static electricity brimming along it's edges and collecting in bulk where Soos's finger touched. Like a giant, lengthy plasma ball*. It vanished again almost instantly, when Soos jumped back in shock. Just as the headless body was about to tumble backwards, the object caught him. The extended contact let it take visual form long enough for Dipper to make out exactly why it was. A tentacle. 

"Ugh, really?" Dipper hazarded a glance a Bill, who's eye quirked upwards with giddy excitement. 

The fat body writhed in pain under the electricity's touch. Soos struggled erratically as the tentacle wrapped around his body, trapping his arms down against his sides. Rolls of pudge squished out as the body was squeezed harshly, and lifted into the air. Another tentacle came into the picture, first announcing itself by tracing along the bumpy contours of Soos's hairy ass. It pulled back slightly, winding up to take an unprepared plunge. 

That was where Dipper broke down, and shut his eyes to avoid the sight.

"Hey, you're missing it!" Bill smacked him lightly, "Keep that up and I'll have to cut off your eyelids." The threat was enough to make Dipper open his eyes uncomfortably wide and gaze upon the hideous events playing out.

The tentacle rammed impossibly far in and out of Soos's ass. A faint smell of burning wafted around as the tentacles continued to caress and shock him until the skin under their ministrations turned red and bubbled. Blood poured from the stump of gore and bone that made up his neck, down his legs, and from blistering burns. All the while the body fought, kicked, convulsed with the current moving through it. 

"Stop! STOP! Please stop!" Dipper screamed, unable to stand it any longer. 

Bill sighed loudly, "FI-NE." The tentacle buried in Soos's backside pulled out, and for one relived, fleeting moment, Dipper thought maybe the gruesome scene really would end. He was wrong. 

The tentacle came back full force, making the body squished in the grasp of the the glowing blue mass seize up. More and more of the fucking appendage appeared from the endless void. The thickness constantly increasing. It was beginning to have a visible effect, slowly Soos's body was expanding. Bones crunched, blood squelched, and finally beyond all reason the end of the electrified tentacle exploded out of the gore coated neck. Continuing on, it rammed further and further until- 

Dipper didn't care about any threat Bill had placed upon him, he turned his head at the last possible moment, the force of his eyes closing making a couple tears spill from his eyes. He sobbed, shaking his head vigorously to ward away the images forever burned into his brain.

It didn't stop the feeling of warm chunks from flying into his face. They were slimy, and smelled like the worst kind of burning meat. Dipper wanted to scream, but couldn't manage it through the onslaught of tears and mucus running down his face. 

A hand touched his shoulder, and he shuddered on contact, flinching away as much as his position would allow. 

"Huh, so I'm gonna go ahead and guess that you don't want a turn?" Bill laughed, holding his head still while running a cold hand across Dipper's wet eyelids. 

"I can't do this anymore," Dipper whimpered, shaking sadly, "Please. I'll do anything. Just Stop." 

"That's what Mama likes to hear!" 

There was a slow creaking, and the pressure of the cuffs keeping him suspended flew away. A scream echoed round the void as he fell. The warm burning chunks settled on him dissipated, along with his running nose and tear stained eyes. Although, to Dipper, it felt more like everything was flying off against the air of his dissent. 

Than. With a force as if he'd only fallen a couple inches, fell into a hefty chair. In front of him, Bill was hovering over a big oak desk, flipping through some ghostly blue paperwork. His eye, adorned with comically large reading glasses was turned down as if he hadn't realized anyone was sitting in front of him. 

By now Dipper had figured out that literally everything this stupid triangle did was just for show. He lied so much, that was all he was anymore. If he didn't feel so goddamn afraid, the shock of the images he'd just seen flashing through his mind... He might've felt a little bad for Bill. 

Bill looked up and widened his eye as if surprised by Dipper's arrival. "Oh good, you're right on time. We have approximately 198 seconds before you wake up. I'm willing to make this whole thing go away. Poof. You forget everything you've seen for the entirety of this dream. Badabing, badaboom. Easy peasy."

Dipper narrowed his eyes, "Uh-huh. And what do you want in return?" 

"I need -and don't take this the wrong way- a load of your spunk. You get me?"

"You mean... That's what all this has been about? Sick!" Dipper adjusted himself in his chair, "If you would've just waited like another minute when you were pushing that memory on me-" 

Bill's body dropped forward, eye dramatically squeezed shut. He pounded his little fist on the desk to accentuate each of his words, "But I was already so BORED," he quickly straitened up and shrugged dismissively, "And that would've been way too easy."

"I might be willing to make this deal with you," Dipper conceded. He would honestly give a lot in order to brain bleach this entire experience, and that seemed like a suspiciously small price to pay, "But seriously? All you want is a single load of jizz? That's it? No tricks? You're not going to erase my entire mind, or make me sterile, or eat my soul, or-" 

"You have almost as active an imagination as your sister. Nope, not going to do any of that. Just gonna dump the singular memory of this old dream out, and be on my way with a doggy-bag of love juice." 

"Why...?"

"That part I'd like to leave confidential," Bill's words were picking up in speed. He brought out his pocket watch and tapped on the surface, "Come on, kid, just agree already. We're running out of time."

Something about the Demon's tone made Dipper feel a surge of power. A coy grin splattered across his face as he boldly stated, "Who's looking desperate now? You know, I know of like five different ways I could get rid of this memory myself. No deal with a devil needed." 

"You little-" Bill's body expanded, body glowing a hot red, "If you don't agree to my demands, I'll give you nightmares that will leave you begging for a repeat performance of tonight- every time your head hits a pillow, every time you doze off in the passenger's seat of Shooting Star's car, every time you pass out from exhaustion. Images of war, pestilence. Everyone you've ever cared about dying behind your eyelids so many times that you become numb to it. Horrors beyond your current comprehension. You'll end up locked away in some padded cell, drooling and babbling incoherently to yourself for the rest of your insignificant life." 

Wow. He really wanted that jizz. 

Bill shrunk back down to a manageable size, yellow hue returning despite the slightly annoyed expression that still painted his face. His eye searched Dipper's paled face. 

Dipper's voice broke off into an embarrassing squeak. He cleared his throat, and asked in a hushed voice, "Can I have it in writing that you won't do that?" 

"Yeah, sure, fine, whatever," Bill's hand flicked out, sparking up with blue flame like a match. The flames reflected onto the black and white surroundings, drowning them in the sinister color. The moving light source licked at Dipper's face, the angle it hit his contours at making his eyes appear black. Soulless. 

Bill's body lit up red, the black and white of his eye eerily inverted. His voice dropped to a wavering, inhuman octave that shook Dipper to the core, "Shake on it?" A second passed, Dipper's hand raised, fearful tremors racking up and down his arm despite his attention focused on keeping still. 

Their palms met, grips strong, fire spreading out. 

Without so much as a touch besides Bill's handshake, an orgasm was pulled from Dipper's flaccid cock. A wave of tight pleasure flew through him, unnatural and violent. Spunk filled his underwear, leaking out and creating a wet stain at his crotch. It was a violating experience. Like something had literally been ripped away from him. 

The details after that were fuzzy. Almost nonexistent. Bill might have screamed a cheeky goodbye at him, but it wouldn't have mattered. The deal was done, and the dream was blotted out of the only place it had ever really existed to begin with. 

In the next moment Dipper was shifting around awkwardly on top of his mess of blankets and papers. Dust gleamed in the beam of morning light shining directly onto his face. It was a painful sight to blink into. Dipper buried his head into the the mattress and groaned at his ever underwhelming existence. After a quick once over to make sure he hadn't crushed anything important rolling around in his sleep, he sluggishly dragged himself out of bed. Just like any other morning. 

At the breakfast table, Mabel regaled him with the story of her dream. "...but Waddles spit sparkly goop that turned the grumpy man-vegetables nice, and you and me climbed onto his back and flew off into space!" Her arms flew around emphatically, chunks of saliva coated cereal shooting out of her mouth with each hard syllable. With the completion of her story, she pointed her spoon at him, and asked, "What about you, bro? Any interesting dreams?" 

Dipper rested his head in his hand, and poked at his toasted waffle with the other. His sister's question was one he'd been asking himself all morning. Every time he tried to recall his dream from the previous night his mind drew a blank. Normally he wouldn't think too hard on it, but he was sure there must've been something. Not only was this was the first morning in years he'd had to clean up nocturnal emissions, but it felt like a memory was being held just out of his recollection. There was nothing left to be done about it though, sometimes dreams just like to be fickle. So Dipper shrugged, and answered Mabel, "No. Nothing that tops man eating vegetables," before stuffing a chunk of waffle into his mouth. 

The hand that had been holding up his head came down to claim a butter knife, revealing a streak of blue across his cheek. Mabel dramatically bemoaned, "Ah, you got ink on your face again." 

No wonder he slept like such a rock. He was tired enough to forget braking another pen! Dipper pursed his lips and looked down at his sweaty hands for more splatters. Instead of the explosion of ink he was expecting, there was a carefully written message on his palm. Even in the slightly smudged state the scrawl was in, it was clearly -and disturbingly- not his own, "CONSIDER WHAT I DID TO YOUR STOMACH PROOF OF PURCHASE." 

He lifted his shirt, to find lines upon lines of the same handwriting. The twins shared a dumbfounded expression. "You didn't happen to write that, huh?" Mabel asked shakily. It was a hopeful thought, and she knew as much, but still paled when Dipper slowly shook his head. 

The shadow cast when he leaned his head down seemed to elongate the bags under his eyes. Dipper looked even more tired and frantic than usual as he read the text, "I WON'T GIVE YOU NIGHTMARES THAT WILL LEAVE YOU BEGGING FOR A REPEAT PERFORMANCE OF LAST NIGHT. YOU DEFINITELY WON'T BE SUBJECTED TO IMAGES OF WAR OR PESTILENCE. EVERYONE YOU'VE EVER CARED ABOUT WILL NOT DIE BEHIND YOUR EYELIDS SO MANY TIMES THAT YOU BECOME NUMB TO IT..." and so on, the entire forgotten monologue was written in all capital letters down his front. Than, right under Dipper's belly button the work was signed with the name, 'Bill Cipher' adorned with a little doodle of a cock.


	2. Epilogue

"You cheated Cipher." 

Bill held his bricks and laughed as if the accusation were a joke, "Well duh!" 

The incubus that sat before Bill leaned forward. It's body consisted of an ever shifting mass of smoke. Cold, dead eyes set into the moving mass of face were the only thing that kept their form. Alongside Bill's body, the eyes were also the only thing in the mindscape that retained color. The gleaming irises that were normally used as an alluring point of interest were merely used to convey the incubus's hot anger as they flashed from blue to red. He spoke in an annoyed growl, "You were supposed to prove that you could seduce a human, but you just went in, and pulled all of your normal bullshit." 

"Hey! Most of the stuff I did was totally in the same ballpark as human breeding rituals. Did you not see the thing with the tentacles?" Bill wiggled his eyebrow, "That was hot as Hell."

The incubus sighed, it's eyes closing for a second, muttering something insulting about crossroads demons. It wasn't lost on Bill, who rolled his eye and scoffed, "It doesn't really matter what logistics you're upset about. I simulated sexual reproduction to completion. I've even got the fluids to prove it," with a snap of his fingers an unnaturally large glob of sticky white appeared about a foot above the incubus's head and quickly came crashing down, "N' so it counted." Bill clasped his hand together, eye twitching upwards in a mouthless grin. 

The now cum coated incubus's smoke bristled sharply as Bill stretched his words condescendingly, "Anyway. It's been REAL FUN, buddy, but I think it's about time for you to get ABSORBED." 

The incubus was set ablaze with blue flame. The smoke consumed the form, slowly squeezing it out of existence. The incubus let out an inhuman screech of pain, but Bill just laughed cruelly. Partially at another living thing's suffering, and partially due to his musings about the irony of setting smoke on fire. The more burnt up his former companion became, the more energy was drained. It was quite an invigorating meal. 

The fool was so delicious, that Bill wondered if he really should give that kid a proper thank-you later.


End file.
